Cuddles
by Fagocytosis
Summary: Sometimes you just need to have your lungs crushed a little to remember how much someone cares for you. AKA John feels a little down about his new relationship with Sherlock and sleepy couch cuddles ensue.


**Second fic for Elvarya's and my little prompt challenge that we are doing. The first was Ticklish, a Frostiron (Loki/Tony from Avengers) fic. This is awfully short, but I actually kind of like it? Well anyway, hope you guys enjoy! Expect more prompts to come!**

* * *

John sighed, flipping through the channels without paying attention to what was playing on the TV. Sherlock was still at the lab, working late on a case that had been bugging him for the past few days and leaving John with the droning of the TV and his thoughts to keep him company.

Which, at the moment, was not a very good idea.

He and Sherlock had only recently taken their relationship to the next level, though the way they acted together was so shockingly similar to before that John almost found it funny. Almost. While he was glad that the unexpected confession and reciprocation of feelings hadn't changed how they were as a pair, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Though he knew it was stupid, that Sherlock was Sherlock and a case always came first, they just didn't seem to be getting anywhere. A hug here or an endearment there was about as in-depth as they got.

Of course, they had their moments. Particularly after a difficult case or when there was no case at all. The two would curl up on the couch together, maybe have a cup of tea and just enjoy the other's company while leaning into the other's warmth. But again, they never seemed to go beyond that.

John tugged a blanket over his lap and set his head on the armrest and checked his watch. 12:32 AM. With another defeated sigh he set the remote on the table and closed his eyes.

Sherlock announced his arrival, removing his coat and scarf as he kicked the door closed behind him. When he earned no response, the detective made his way over to the couch to investigate. There, curled in a fleece blanket and his arm dangling over the edge, was John, sound asleep.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the sight. Every time he was working late while John wasn't around, the man always insisted on staying up until he got home. A silly thing to do, obviously, seeing as it always depended on how tricky the certain thing was that he was investigating or how engrossed he was in the case. Still, John was always there waiting for him, usually asleep with whatever channel he had last landed on and occasionally with his laptop right next to him.

If Sherlock had been more motivated, or possibly romantic, he might have considered carrying John to his room for a more comfortable sleeping arrangement. However, he didn't quite have it in him to pick up a full grown man – no matter how short said man may be – and carry him all the way to his room at nearly two in the morning. So instead, Sherlock gently maneuvered onto the couch and under the arm John had lying across his stomach, and laid his head on his chest, legs entangling with each other until he was able to get at least somewhat comfortable.

It was hypnotizing, to listen to the slow beating of his heart; to feel his chest rise and fall with his shallow breaths, and to know that the person (and that's all he was, just a simple human) could change his life so drastically. It wasn't long before Sherlock managed to fall asleep.

John awoke with the feeling that his lungs were being crushed, his left foot completely numb, and an excessive amount of heat. It took less than two seconds to identify the source of all three discomforts: a certain consulting detective splayed out on top of him and snoring softly.

He rolled his eyes and attempted to find a position where he didn't feel like he was suffocating but soon gave up, knowing that Sherlock slept like a rock and was much too heavy for him to lift. So he compromised in tightening his grip around the taller man's back and kicked the blanket that was wrapped around them onto the floor before attempting to fall back asleep.

Well, if he was going to be smothered to death, at least it was by the person he loved.


End file.
